


Peak Condition

by triedunture



Series: Sporty High School AU [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dirty Talk, First Love, First Time, Foot Fetish, Frottage, High School, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pool Sex, Sports, Swimming Pool, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triedunture/pseuds/triedunture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is on the high school swim team and Dean Winchester is the super-attractive, too-cool-for-him lacrosse player. Except now they're dating and Dean wants to take Cas to the Homecoming dance and then, skinny dipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peak Condition

Cas sat at his table in art class, dutifully recreating a landscape in pencil. He traced a spindly tree and ignored the shapely hand tapping at his arm. Cas examined the tip of his pencil, reached for his sharpener, and most certainly did not look over at Dean.

Dean continued to push the folded slip of paper under his elbow. "Cas. Cas. Cas," he kept hissing quietly.

Cas ignored him. Their art teacher, Mrs. Talbot, was very strict about working in silence. She was prone to snits, and she'd raised an eyebrow when Dean had plunked himself down at Cas's art table last week. They'd never sat together before, but now that they were dating ( _dating_ , Cas could barely believe it), Dean seemed to think it was only natural. Art was the only class they had together, after all, and even if it passed in complete silence most days, Cas couldn't complain about having such a warm, pleasing presence at his side.

Well, he usually couldn't complain. When Dean was being annoying, like right now for instance, Cas could complain quite a bit.

"Casssss," Dean said under his breath.

"What?" Cas finally whispered back.

"It's for you." Dean held up the note, Cas's name written on the front in bubbly, heart-laden handwriting. Dean's idea of a joke. Cas tried not to encourage him, but it was difficult to hold back the smile.

He took the note with what he hoped was a long-suffering air and unfolded it in his lap beneath the desk. Dean watched him closely, fiddling with his own sketching pencil, making it waterfall back and forth through his fingers.

Cas read the note and bit down on a laugh. Dean had continued the lovestruck girl theme in the body of his message. At the top of the page, in loopy script, he'd written: _Be my homecoming date?_ followed by a set of check-boxes, yes, no, maybe. Cas glanced over at Dean, who was playing at cartoonish nonchalance, twiddling his thumbs and brushing unseen lint from his shirtfront.

"You're ridiculous," Cas murmured.

Dean's green eyes locked on him, shining brightly with intent. "Is that a yes?"

Cas swallowed, wide-eyed. Dean was being serious? Cas was still wrapping his head around the fact that Dean Winchester wanted to do the awkward hug/handshake with his mom and eat lasagna at their dinner table and kiss him while watching the stars come out in Cas's backyard. It all felt so new and so frightening, and Homecoming was that to the hundredth power.

"Uh." Cas tried to form an answer, but they were interrupted by a shrill call from the front of the classroom: "Dean! Cas! Do I hear working, or do I hear talking?" Mrs. Talbot eyed them over her glasses.

"Sorry," Cas muttered, ducking his head and staring down at his sketch.

Talbot watched them with laser-like eyes for a moment before declaring, "Dean. Get your things. You'll be sitting over there for the rest of the year." She pointed to a desk only half-occupied by Roy on the other side of the room.

"Oh, come on!" Dean said, raising his empty hands helplessly in the air. "You can't be serious!"

The rest of the class was now staring at them, their own artwork forgotten. Mrs. Talbot looked down her nose at Dean in a way that showed how serious she was.

"You clearly cannot concentrate at Cas's table," she said crisply. Her lacquered fingernail pointed the way across the room again. "Now move." A few students giggled, a nervous undercurrent that could erupt at any moment.

Dean stood, mechanically grabbing his backpack and shoving away from the table. As he crossed the room, he glanced over at Chuck and Becky, who shared a table toward the back of the classroom. They'd been dating since freshman year. Becky was whispering something in Chuck's ear, and he was smiling at whatever she was saying. Dean nodded in their direction, staring pointedly at their hands clasped under the desk.

"I don't see you separating them," he threw over his shoulder to Mrs. Talbot.

Cas fought the urge to curl up under his desk as the class exploded into hoots and calls. Mrs. Talbot wasted no time in ringing the buzzer for Mr. Zachary, and Cas knew he wouldn't see Dean for the rest of the day.

____________________

"So you think he'll get suspended?" Anna Milton asked, crunching down on her baby carrot.

"I don't know. Maybe." Cas shrugged. "He just can't seem to help himself." He sighed and leaned back against the oak tree. It was a beautiful fall day, perfect for eating lunch outside with Anna, the only person in the world, until recently, who had known about Cas being gay. She was also the first person he'd told about Dean.

"What were you guys talking about anyway?" Anna asked, licking ranch dressing off her thumb. "I mean, what was so important that Dean couldn't wait until after school?"

"Oh, he—" Cas fought the blush that crept up his neck. "He asked me to the homecoming dance."

"What!" Anna's mouth dropped open.

"I thought he was just kidding at first. I mean, can you believe it?" He looked up at his friend and smiled shyly. "A few months ago I thought he didn't know I existed, and now we're going to the dance together."

"Um, Cas, sweetie." Anna placed her tupperware of raw vegetables on her sweatshirt-cum-picnic blanket with exaggerated care. "Did you perhaps forget, while gazing into those sparkly green eyes, that you have plans for Homecoming already?" She pursed her lips in anger.

Cas's mind was a complete blank for all of four long seconds, then he groaned and hid his face in his hands. "Oh my god, Anna, I am so sorry."

"No. It's fine." Anna began packing up her lunch, her movements jerky. "You have this brand new boyfriend and he wants to take you to the dance, so why would you go with your best friend since _second grade_!?"

"Anna—"

She stood and swung her hand-knitted tote bag over her shoulder. "I'll just sit at home in my underwear, eating frosting out of a can and watching reruns of Law & Order: SVU! Whoop-di-do, Homecoming party!" She spiraled her index fingers upwards.

"Just wait a second," Cas said, struggling to his feet. "I didn't say yes to Dean yet."

Anna glared at him, her arms crossed over her chest. "But you're going to."

"No, you and I made plans. I'm going with you."

"But you _want_ to go with Dean."

"Well." Cas half-shrugged. "Yes, but I made a promise." He attempted a smile for her. "Friends are more important than boyfriends, right? I'm not going to ditch you."

Anna fought to keep the sour expression on her face, but it melted away. "Argh! Now I feel like a dick for making you take me." She bit her lip. "You should go with Dean," she sighed in a defeatist way.

"No, Anna—"

"It's just a stupid dance, anyway. We probably would've laughed at everyone's skanky dresses for twenty minutes before going to Denny's. It's no big deal," she said, her voice quavering.

"Anna, I'm still going with you, just like we said, okay? Skanky dresses, bad dancing, Denny's, the whole nine yards." Cas ducked to catch her eyes. "Okay?"

"Okay." Anna nodded miserably. "But Dean's going to think I'm a total bitch."

Cas didn't have an answer for that; he wasn't sure how Dean was going to react when he told him the news. "It'll be fine," was all he could say.

____________________

"Oh, it'll be fiiiiiine," Dean said on the phone that night.

Cas frowned, staring at his cell phone for a moment before putting it to his ear again. "Maybe you didn't hear me, Dean: I already told Anna I'd go with her to Homecoming. That means I can't go with you."

"Not a problem," Dean said, his tinny voice still brimming with confidence. "We just have to get your friend a date."

Cas shoved the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could open his car door and toss his damp gear bag into the backseat. "I don't think Anna wants a date. She wants to go with me. You know, as a friend."

"Dude, I've got like six or seven guys right off the top of my head that would be perfect. Single. Good-looking. Heterosexual. Owe me favors...." Dean trailed off.

"You can't be serious." Cas dropped into the driver's seat and started the car. "This is my best friend we're talking about. I'm not going to pimp her out to one of your lacrosse teammates."

"Who said anything about pimping? I'd make sure they took good care of her."

"Anna would kill you. Literally kill you. She knows krav maga," Cas said. Dean chuckled on the other end of the line, and Cas sat still in his car, just listening. "I really did want to go with you, Dean," he said softly once the other boy had quieted down. "I'm sorry."

"Look, if I can find Anna the perfect date—"

Cas sighed. "Dean."

"No, just listen! If I can find the perfect date for her, and she willingly agrees to go to the dance with someone else, will you go with me then?" Dean paused. "I mean, if you trust me to fix it up for her."

"No lacrosse players?"

"Not a single one."

"You can try, but I don't think—"

"Great. It's a deal. Leave it to me, Cas."

"If you say so." Cas plugged his cell into his ancient car speaker adapter and started backing out of the parking lot. "Listen, are you calling me from the detention hall or what? How much trouble are you in?"

"Right now? Dad hasn't gotten the heads up from the vice principal yet, so I'm just sitting at home stewing in a stern warning."

"Why did Zachary let you off so easy?" Their vice principal was notorious for coming down on offenders like the hammer of god.

"It's shocking how easygoing everyone gets once the ACLU is mentioned."

Cas turned onto the street, slotting into traffic behind one of the buses. "You actually threatened to sue? Isn't that a little much? It's not like Talbot singled you out for no good reason. You _were_ talking."

"Yeah, and so were Becky and what's-his-name, the guy with the weird goatee!"

"But they sit in the back where Talbot can't hear them," Cas pointed out.

"I don't buy it." Dean's voice was harsh and crackly through the car speakers. "If the rules are so goddamn important, she'd enforce them all the time, not just for people who sit near her desk, not just for people who are gay, everyone."

"Dean—"

"You think I'm being too sensitive?"

"I think you're," Cas groped for the right word as he came to a stop sign, "passionate."

"That a good thing?" Cas could hear the slow smile in Dean's voice.

"You know it is."

The sound of a door slamming echoed through the phone line. "Got to go, dad's home. See you tomorrow, Cas."

"See you."

____________________

When Cas stepped onto campus the next morning, he wondered if it was a holiday or something that he'd forgotten about. He looked at his watch; he was running a little behind, but the bell hadn't rung yet. And yet the corridors were practically empty, and so were the walkways between the buildings. Normally they were jammed with small groups of friends catching up and exchanging gossip before classes started. But no one was around except for the janitor and a few teachers, bustling to their classrooms with stacks of lesson plans.

"Excuse me, Mr. Singer?" Cas called to the janitor as he walked by with his squeaky-wheeled mop bucket. "Where is everyone?"

"Ask Dean Winchester. Boy's got 'em all riled up over by the chorus room," the janitor gruffed, squeaking away down the hall.

Cas frowned. The chorus room was on the other side of campus, near the athletic fields. Why would Dean and everyone else be—?

A quiet trickle of voices around the corner grew to a loud roar. Cas turned to find pretty much every kid in school rushing toward him, chattering excitedly as the first bell rang. Cas tried to dodge the huge wave of humanity, but he was trapped in the middle of the flow. All he could do was stand there, being bumped this way and that while all around him he heard things like:

"That was the coolest thing I have ever seen!"

"Can you believe he actually—"

"—and when the marching band showed up!"

Cas saw a few people he knew, and he tried to call out to them to ask what the hell has going on, but a strong hand closed over his arm and guided him smoothly through the crowd. Cas looked up and saw Dean's cocky grin aimed right at him.

"Watch it, a guy could get hurt in a stampede like this," Dean said, curling Cas's hand over his own elbow and walking him like a Victorian gentleman would lead a lady down a muddy street.

"Dean, what—?" Cas sputtered, then saw Anna and Gabriel were walking with them on Dean's left. She was smiling at him, beaming really, and...holding Gabriel's hand. For some reason.

"Seriously, guys, thank you," Anna was gushing (and it sounded like she'd been at it for awhile). "That was amazing. I hope you got it all on tape!"

"Well," Gabe said, rolling his words across his tongue, "I may have asked the AV club to have three cameras covering the whole thing. Keep an eye on YouTube." He winked.

Cas struggled to wrap his mind around this. It could be a fever dream, he supposed. "What the hell did I miss?" he asked.

"Nothing much, just Gabe asking Anna to the dance. While singing a medley of her favorite Broadway hits. With the chorus and band providing backup," Dean said with a shrug. "Oh, and I think the theatre geeks put together a dance number, no big deal."

"It was like an episode of Glee! In real life!" Anna laughed. She looked up into Gabe's face with the starriest fucking eyes Cas had ever seen. "Well. Um. See you later."

"See you," Gabe said with a slow smile. They parted, heading down opposite hallways. Dean's smile turned smug, glancing over at Cas's shocked face.

"So I guess you'll have to be my date after all," he said.

"How did you—? What even—?" Cas floundered. " _Gabriel_? You set Anna up with Gabriel!?"

"Hey, Gabe's had a crush on Anna since third grade. He thinks she's God's gift to the world. And after chatting with a few of Anna's friends in Chorus, I found out she thinks he's cute. So." Dean shrugged. "I may have pushed Gabe in the right direction."

Cas squinted at Dean in disbelief. "Anna thinks Gabe's cute? She never told me that."

"Well, I have a knack for digging up the truth." Dean threw him a blinding smile.

"But _Gabe_?" Cas still couldn't get over it. "He's such a man-slut."

Dean threw him an amused look. "Didn't figure you for a prude, Cas." He leaned closer and whispered in Cas's ear. "Especially not after the other day in the car."

Cas flushed under his collar and said nothing.

Dean continued. "So Gabe's messed around with a few girls, so what? I'd have messed around with guys too if I'd ever had the chance. Would you not like me if I had?" Dean's brow furrowed, his mouth drawn into a small frown.

"No," Cas said, squeezing Dean's hand in his. "Of course not. I just don't want to see Anna get hurt."

"Oh, she won't be. I already told Gabe if he doesn't treat her like fucking royalty, I will personally kill him." The second bell rang, and Dean pressed a quick kiss to Cas's slack cheek. "Got to go. Have a good one."

Cas stood in the empty hall, just staring after Dean. It wasn't until the late bell rang that he shook himself from his stupor and headed to first period.

____________________

As with all things associated with Dean Winchester, the lead-up to Homecoming Night was a whirlwind. Cas couldn't remember a time when he'd had more on his mind: his mother waiting for a phone call from the administration to say Cas couldn't go to the school dance with his boyfriend, which never materialized; Anna worrying about what to wear now that she needed a non-ironic gown; Dean's father going back and forth on whether Dean could go to the dance or not as punishment for acting up in class; and when Dean's dad finally caved to Dean's pleas, Cas then had to think about the amount of money a real suit was going to cost.

Gabe at least helped out with one thing. He appeared at Cas's gym locker one day after practice, dressed in sweats and toting a dry-cleaning bag over his shoulder.

"Listen," he told a still-toweling off Cas, "my older brother grew out of this thing years ago. You want it?"

Cas stared at the offered suit, wrapped in its careful plastic. It was completely monochrome: charcoal gray jacket, trousers, shirt, and tie. The label said something in Italian. It was gorgeous.

"Gabe," he said slowly, "I can't accept this."

Gabe shoved the bag into his arms. "No sense wasting it. Try it on."

So instead of slipping back into his tee shirt and jeans, Cas found himself buttoning up the studs on the shirt and carefully arranging the knot of the tie at his throat. He looked at himself in the locker room's full-length mirror, over by the hand dryers, and stared at the picture he presented. Even barefoot, he looked pretty good.

"GQ motherfucker," Gabe declared, slapping him on the shoulder.

"It's great, really, but I—" Cas struggled to explain; the suit was _too_ nice.

"Hey, we're only seniors once in our life. Except for that one guy; he's been here for ages." Gabe shrugged. "Live a little. Look decent for Dean, at least."

Cas shook his head, still mesmerized by the way the suit fit his shoulders so perfectly. "Why are you helping me like this?" he said. "It's not like we ever hang out or anything."

Gabe laughed. "I'm not doing this for my health. I want to impress Anna, okay? And the way I figure it, being cool with her best friend is the quickest way for me to score brownie points." He smirked. "Total gentlemanly brownie points, of course; your boyfriend already told me what he'd do to my kneecaps if I act like a caveman."

Cas ran his fingertips down the slick silk of his borrowed tie. "Good. He's not joking."

"Yeah, I know, you're tough guys. Now do me a favor and wear the suit?" Gabe quirked his lips in mock-frustration.

A short nod of agreement, a small smile. "All right."

____________________

Homecoming Night. Dean drove them all, Cas, Anna, and Gabe, to the rented-out Polish American Society hall where the dance was being held. It was funny, the way Dean rushed to help Cas out of the passenger seat of his dad's classic car, but Cas found it very endearing. And the fact that Dean looked good didn't hurt. The black suit and tie made him look a little bit like a government spook, but Cas had always loved a man in uniform.

"Have I told you you look amazing?" Dean asked as he guided Cas out of the passenger seat and onto the pavement.

Cas smirked. "Yes. You did when you picked me up."

"Okay. Because, shit, you really do," Dean said, his eyes still skating over Cas's face. Cas could hear Gabe and Anna also getting out of the car, murmuring to each other, Anna's high-pitched giggle punctuating the air, but none of it registered past the surface hum of Dean's intense gaze.

The moment was broken by a loud thump to the roof of Dean's car. Cas jolted and spun to see Michael and his hoard of friends stalking by on their way to the front door, Michael's hand still balled in a fist.

"What's up, Team Queen!" he called over his shoulder at them.

"Fags!" one of the girls jeered in their direction.

Anna gritted her teeth and hiked up her blue chiffon dress as if preparing to chase after Michael, but Gabe laid a hand on her elbow and shook his head. "Forget those assholes. It isn't worth ruining your manicure."

Anna seemed mollified, but when Cas turned back to Dean, he found him staring pensively in the distance, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

"Dean?" he said.

"Sorry, I just—" Dean sighed and lifted his eyes back to Cas. "I never meant to drag you into this. If you want to go home—"

"I'm here with you," Cas said. He glanced over at Gabe and Anna, saw how he was still holding her elbow, stroking his fingers down her arm soothingly. Cas took a chance and laced his fingers over Dean's shoulder, kneading the tense muscle there. "That's all I care about."

Dean licked his bottom lip and looked at Cas with something soft and fond in his eyes. "Thank you," he said.

"All right, once more into the breach," Gabe announced, straightening his loud paisley vest. He threaded his arm through Dean's, Anna on his other side, and nodded at Cas to take Dean's left. "Team Queen, looking fine, fabulous, and not giving a fuck."

They walked arm-in-arm toward the squat Polish American Society building, Gabe humming We're Off to See the Wizard and the rest of them chuckling. Cas was suddenly very glad Gabe was there with them. He thought about all the years he and Gabe had been swimming on the same team, ever since they were little kids, and now he wished he had—Been his friend? Thought of him as something more than a flake?—sooner. He caught Anna's eye, and he could tell she was thinking the same thing.

By the time they stepped into the main hall, Cas's palms were sweating. The music was incredibly loud, and the added noise of the student body only made it worse. Staffers and teachers stood like sentinels at various points along the walls, frowning at the students on the dance floor. A few of them seemed to be glaring in Cas's direction, or maybe it was his imagination. But the way Michael and his friends sneered and pointed at him and Dean as they entered—that was not imagined at all.

Cas cleared his throat as a slow number suddenly interrupted the high-energy Foster the People song that had been playing. Dean shared his gaze, looking just as nervous as Cas felt.

"Well, this is it," Gabe said, surveying the slow-dancing couples. "The first man-on-man dance in the history of the school. Let's get it over with." And then, to Cas's eternal surprise, Gabe grabbed Dean's hand and dragged him toward the dance floor.

"Hey, what the—?" Dean squawked. He twisted around to stare pleadingly at Cas and Anna.

"You can save the rest of the dances for Cas, but the first one is mine," Gabe declared. "I'll even let you lead, you big baby."

Cas watched as Gabe and Dean took the floor. The student body reacted predictably with cheers and hoots of laughter; after all, Gabe was just clowning around like always. But he was also breaking the ice, showing everyone in the room that it was just two boys dancing, and that it wasn't actually a big deal. Although if Dean's flailing attempts at keeping up with Gabe's sure-footed dance steps were any indication, Cas was going to have to lead next time.

Anna slipped her hand into Cas's and beamed up at him. "May I?" she asked in her British aristocrat accent, and Cas bowed gallantly before leading her to the floor.

"That was a really nice thing Gabe just did," Cas yelled into Anna's ear to be heard over the music as they twirled around the other couples. "I guess he's a pretty decent guy."

"Yeah," Anna sighed happily. "I don't even care if he's just doing it to get into my pants. At this point, he's earned a handjob at _least_."

"Anna!"

"What? I deserve some fun tonight." Anna dropped her voice to a mock-whisper, still shouting to be heard over the song. "Have you ever seen him drop trou in the locker room? Can you give me an estimate here?"

"I am not having this conversation," Cas said.

"Fine, you big fuddy-duddy." Anna made a face. They took a few more turns around the floor, mostly just swaying between couples who were sucking face and barely moving. After awhile, they danced into the space next to Gabe and Dean.

"Want to switch?" Dean shouted at them.

"Sure!" Anna said brightly, then made a show of cutting in and taking Dean as a dance partner. At Dean's eye-roll, Anna dropped the gag and slipped into Gabe's arms instead. "Enjoy. He pulls a little to the left, FYI," she said as Dean took his place with Cas.

After Anna and Gabe had danced some distance away, Dean smirked and said, "Funny, I thought you curved a little to the right." He glanced down Cas's body, his eyes dancing with laughter.

Cas draped his arms over Dean's shoulders, smiling his small smile despite himself. There was no fanfare; the crowd had already wasted their reactions on Gabe. Just Adele singing and Dean's hands on his hips and his face inches away. He was dancing. With Dean. In front of everyone. And even if Michael and those other douches spent the whole night giving them the evil eye, it was worth it. Because Dean looked so happy.

Was this what it felt like, Cas wondered. To love someone?

The slow song ended and another fast one began. Hours passed in a blur: there were photos to take, some really bad finger sandwiches to eat, a terrible comedian to watch, more dances with Dean and a few with Anna and Gabe.

After one particularly slow, close dance, Dean leaned forward and whispered in Cas's ear, "Want to get some fresh air?"

Thoughts of Dean's car and its wide backseat flashed through Cas's brain. He nodded and they were in the parking lot before he knew it. But instead of sliding into the backseat, Dean opened the driver's side door and got behind the wheel.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked. "Are we leaving?"

"Just for a second. I already talked to Anna; she said she and Gabe can catch a ride with Becky from Chorus if we're late getting back." Dean leaned across the front seat and popped open the passenger door. "Come on. There's something I want to show you."

Cas got into the car.

They drove a short distance, and it didn't take long for Cas to understand where they were. It was the place he'd been every weekday afternoon for years.

"Why are we at the pool complex?" He peered at the darkened hulk of the building through the misted car window. "It's a Saturday night, it's locked."

A set of keys jangled from Dean's outstretched fingers. "Not if you got these." He grinned. "The janitor owed me a favor. Feel like a swim?"

Cas frowned. "I don't have any spare swim suits—"

Dean's voice, when it came, was dark and husky. "Don't need 'em." His eyes drifted over Cas's body. "If it's just us."

"Dean, we can't go _skinny dipping_ ," Cas hissed. The idea of being naked in the pool—his pool, the pool he swam in every day with his _team_ —was beyond weird. Like having sex in a parent's bedroom or something.

"We can." Dean waggled his eyebrows and got out of the car. "We're eighteen, in the best shape of our lives, about to graduate in a few months and get real jobs with bills and taxes and all that bullshit. May as well give it one last hurrah, right?" He reached Cas's side of the car and opened the door for him. "What do you say?"

Well. When he put it like that.

The pool deck was dark and eerie, the water casting strange shadows everywhere. Dean looked ethereal in the wavering light, his eyes bright as he stripped off his tie and suit coat. Cas watched him undress and toss his clothes on the nearby bleacher. His body was so beautiful, the dips and curves of his muscles bathed in watery light.

"Hey, you do look great in that suit," Dean whispered, pressing a kiss to Cas's slack lips, "but why don't you take it off now?"

Cas did, even as he shivered in the damp air of the natatorium. Dean ran his warm palms over Cas's bared skin, offering brisk warmth at first, then turning to slow exploration. Cas toed off his shoes and pulled off his thin dress socks, feeling the freezing tile under his feet. He kissed Dean more deeply to ward off the impending chill.

He wanted to get in the water as quickly as he could. He wanted to be in his element.

"Come with me," he said quietly. His voice echoed weirdly in the cavernous space, bouncing off the walls like the shadows. It lent a dreamlike quality to the whole thing, like maybe none of it was real and Cas would wake up in his bed any second now. He led Dean to the shallow end.

A small metal ladder was bolted to the edge in one corner of the pool, but Cas ignored it in favor of jumping straight in, feet first, collapsing into a ball as the water closed over his head. He burst to the surface with a gasp; the water was cold, much colder than it usually was. The internal heater had probably been switched off for the weekend.

It felt weird to be naked in the water. Even though his Speedo never covered much, the sensation of his bare cock and balls in the water was new and foreign. Not bad, just strange.

Cas slicked his wet hair off his forehead and looked up at Dean, still standing nude on the deck, his hands on his hips.

"Just so you know, I ain't a good swimmer. I hope you know CPR."

Cas extended his hand, dripping wet. "I won't let you drown, Dean," he said without a hint of a smirk.

Dean's eyes softened at that, his jaw tightening. "Yeah. We'll see," he said, voice gruff. He took Cas's hand and lowered himself to sit at the pool's edge, his feet dangling into the water in fits and starts. "Fucking cold," he muttered.

"It'll warm up once you start moving," Cas promised. He eyed Dean's feet, curling into the water in front of him, and licked his lips.

Dean chuckled. "Maybe you could warm these up for me?" he asked, drawing his foot out of the water and waggling his toes in Cas's face.

Cas growled, low in his throat. Dean _knew_ what those perfect arches and delicate ankles did to him, the bastard. He reached out carefully, kneading Dean's foot between his hands, massaging the warmth back into the soft skin.

"Your mouth would be good too," Dean suggested in a husky voice.

Cas glanced up to Dean's shadowed face, gauging his seriousness. Dean nodded. "Go ahead."

With a shuddering breath, Cas drew Dean's second toe to his lips, taking just the tip of it into his mouth, suckling at it tentatively. It was clean and chlorine-tasting, but still carried that faint musky scent of Dean.

Cas groaned and trailed his tongue up the top of Dean's foot, painting it in whorls and smacking kisses. He felt Dean's sharp intake of breath as he nipped at his ankle.

"Christ, Cas," he whispered. He let his foot fall back into the water and slid off the pool edge with a loud splash. "Come here." Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling him against his warm, solid body, pressing kisses to Cas's neck. Cas felt Dean's hardness against his stomach, thick and fat despite the freezing water. Cas's erection, which had been building slowly, now responded in kind.

There was no other word for how it felt, held tight against Dean's bare skin, surrounded by nothing but water and the taste of each other: Cas felt electrified. Every touch seemed more intense. Dean's hands trailed over the planes of his back, the dips of his hipbones, greedy and wonderful. Cas was desperate to keep up, to touch every part of Dean he could reach. Water splashed and dripped off their arms, a weird echo in the silent pool. He pressed Dean back against the tiled pool wall, staring into his lust-blown eyes.

"Here, I want you to—" Dean reached between them and found Cas's cock, hard and twitching at the mere brush of Dean's fingers. Dean stroked him a few times, then guided his erection between Dean's thighs. "Rub up on me, Cas. I want you to come between my fucking legs."

"Oh god, Dean." Cas pressed his face into the warm nook of Dean's shoulder, thrusting into the tight space between the vice of those muscular thighs. The water eased the way, the slap of waves against the pool wall and flesh on flesh.

"Want you to remember this, Cas, remember me every fucking time you get in this pool," Dean hissed in Cas's ear. He bit down on Cas's earlobe, worrying it gently between his teeth as Cas cried out. "Want you to get hard in your little swim suit when you think about it, till it makes you crazy. Can you do that, Cas? Can you come for me?"

"Fuck, yes," Cas moaned, strangled. His hips sped up, slamming into Dean even faster. He pressed up against Dean, feeling Dean's cock trapped between their stomachs. Wet skin trembling, muscles singing with fire. Cas ground himself against Dean in small circles, their hips fitted together like puzzle pieces.

Dean kissed him, his lips wet against Cas's mouth. "Cas, I—"

"Dean!" Cas bit down on his lip, his eyes squeezing shut. He felt his cock spurt into the cool water, cradled between Dean's legs. Long pulses of come, so raw it was almost painful. Cas clawed his fingers into Dean's shoulders and held on, chasing after his lost breath.

"Dean," he murmured against Dean's wet chest, his lips brushing the hard line of his pectoral. "Oh, fuck, Dean." Even in his daze, he wanted to get Dean off like Dean had done for him; he slipped a hand between Dean's legs and was surprised to find Dean's softening erection.

Dean hissed at the contact. "Still sensitive," he said, also out of breath. "I came just watching you."

Cas blinked droplets of water out of his eyes. "Really?" Dean's hands were in his hair, soothing, shaking.

Dean nodded, panting for air, his lips parted and flush. "Really." His mouth stretched into a wide smile, all teeth. "You are—god—so amazing."

Cas smiled against Dean's skin, unable to think of any answer that wouldn't have him blubbering like lovesick idiot. They rested there for a long time, their hearts slowing to normal, their hands roving gently as if making sure the other was real.

"Should we be getting back to the dance?" Cas asked. He didn't particularly want to go back; he would rather be alone with Dean, basking. But it seemed like the expected thing.

Dean pulled away and searched Cas's face, his gaze sharp. "One second." He grabbed the metal ladder next to them and hauled himself, dripping wet, out of the pool. Cas watched him go, floating languidly on his back. Dean picked up his dress pants and fished something out of the pocket, holding it in his hand where Cas couldn't see. He stood there for a long moment, facing the bleachers, lost in thought, maybe.

"Dean?" Cas called. "What's going on?"

Dean turned and walked back to the pool edge, offered Cas a hand. When Cas was standing on the deck with Dean, he saw what was in the other's hand: a white plastic card with a magnetic strip.

"Is that—?" He swallowed.

Dean shrugged. "I made the reservation like a month ago. Figured a hotel room would be a great place for the lacrosse team to party after the dance. But then you and I started dating and, I don't know, I thought maybe—" He looked up at Cas, his eyes so green and clear. "We don't have to go. And if we go, we don't have to do anything. We could just watch Pay Per View and fall asleep and—fuck, Cas—I would be fine with that."

Cas imagined what it would be like, sleeping next to Dean. Really sleeping, not dozing in the backseat after a blowjob, not worrying about someone finding them or walking in on them. Falling asleep in bed next to Dean and waking up with him in the morning. Something twisted in Cas's stomach.

"I wouldn't be fine with that," he said quietly.

Dean's face fell, his mouth thinning into a sad line. "Okay." He shook his head, shoulders squared. "That's all right, we can—"

Cas caught hold of Dean's wrist before he could turn away. "I meant, I don't want to just fall asleep." He kissed Dean, trying to explain exactly what he wanted to do with his tongue and his teeth. He nipped at Dean's chin as he pulled away. "I want you."

"You bastard," Dean murmured, kissing him fiercely.

__________________________

The hotel room wasn't anything special: just a mid-range chain with beige carpet and bland farmhouse paintings on the walls. There was a small sitting room with an adjacent bathroom and one king-sized bed piled high with pillows. Cas surveyed the room and noticed a bottle of champagne sitting on the coffee table next to two plastic tumblers. He raised an eyebrow at Dean.

"Heh." Dean scratched the back of his head. "I'm hoping dad doesn't notice it's missing from the fridge. I think it's still good. He's had it in there since the Super Bowl. His team lost."

Cas smiled. "Sometimes, Dean," he said, "you seem too good to be real." And he kissed him, shoving him up against the hotel door. They forgot the champagne altogether.

The mattress was one of those squishy memory foam ones. Cas startled as he sank into it, Dean laughing as he stretched out on top of him, their now-naked skin pressed together. "Easy, easy," Dean said, a smile chasing away his chuckle. "You nervous?"

"Um, yes." Cas shot Dean a look. "Aren't you?"

Dean kissed Cas's chest, just above his pounding heart. "Course I am. But I really want—" He stopped, staring down into Cas's face. His thumb found Cas's lip, brushing against it, a tender gesture. "I want to do something—something we've never done before."

Cas held his breath. This was it. They were going to have sex. Dean was going to fuck him, be inside him, the whole hot length of him. Cas's stomach coiled; he was interested, oh, his dripping cock was proof of that, but he was also scared out of his mind. It wasn't just because this was his first time; it was because, in all his years of fantasizing about sex, he always featured as the giver, not the receiver. But this was Dean, and if he was ever going to do this, Dean was the person he wanted it to be with.

"I want that too," he told Dean, his muscles tensing.

Dean petted a hand through his hair, the smile still lingering on his lips. "Okay, good, that's good, Cas. But listen, I was hoping, at least for this first time," he took a deep breath as if to steel himself, "would you be on top?" The words seemed to leave his mouth in a rush. "I want you to fuck me. Please."

"Are you serious?" Cas sat up, blinking at Dean, who was slotted between his legs. "I thought you would be—I mean, you're always so, uh, in control."

"Yeah. I know what I want." Dean pressed a kiss to the corner of Cas's mouth. "And right now, I want to do this. Is that all right?" His eyes betrayed him; they weren't hazy with lust, only clear and searching and so, so desirous to give Cas what he wanted.

Cas gaped at Dean. "Did you know all this time? That I've wanted to top you?"

Dean ducked his head with a smirk. "I told you, I'm good at getting to the truth. Good at reading people. So yeah, I've known. And the more I thought about it—shit, Cas, I barely care how it happens, I just want it to happen with you." He seemed to flush at that, his neck and ears going pink in the dim hotel lamplight. "Was that, um, totally stupid to say?"

Cas curled his hand over the back of Dean's neck, drawing him in for another kiss, sweet and soft. "No, it wasn't," he whispered into Dean's mouth. He wanted to say how perfect it was, but he couldn't find any words, so he kissed Dean again.

They stretched out on the too-soft bed, limbs tangling and hands touching. Cas felt a small pool of fluid collecting on his stomach, leaking steadily from the wet tip of Dean's cock. Knowing how ready Dean was for this, how much he needed it, went straight through him. Cas didn't want to rush—they were sure not to have many opportunities like this again, when their parents were furnished with good excuses and they had the whole night to themselves—but he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait.

Dean must have realized that from the way Cas keened in the back of his throat and slid his cock against Dean's. "Here, let me show you." Dean pressed a quick line of kisses down Cas's shoulder. "You'll need to get me ready."

Dean reached over to the bedside table and pulled a bottle of lube from the top drawer. Cas narrowed his eyes at it, impressed. "You were a lot more confident than you let on," he said.

Dean shrugged and squirted a dollop of the clear gel into his palm. "Always be prepared." His eyes glinted in good humor. He took Cas's hand in his and slicked it up, working the lube between his fingers and across his palm. "Do you want to see me finger myself, Cas? Do you want to see what I do at night when I'm thinking about you?" he whispered, sliding their slippery hands together obscenely.

"God, yes," Cas said.

Dean laid back, his legs spread wide, working his hand around the base of his stiff cock, giving it a few pulls. He held Cas's gaze as he tugged his balls, worked his fingertips beneath them. "Come get a good look. Suck me off while you watch," he said, his voice like gravel.

Cas knelt at Dean's side, lapping and sucking at the head of his cock while keeping an eye on Dean's fingers, which massaged between his legs in lazy circles. They dipped in, then out, massaging again for long minutes. Dean's hips juttered and twitched.

"I like to take it slow. Tease a little, 'cause I think that's how you'd do it," Dean breathed. He sounded far away, like he was talking in his sleep. "Would you do that, Cas? Drive me fucking crazy?"

Cas pulled off Dean's cock with a loud slurp. "You know I would," he growled.

"So do it. Help me," he begged, taking one of Cas's hands from the base of his cock and moving it lower.

Cas let himself be guided by Dean, his fingertips trailing along the vulnerable, soft skin of his sac, tickling through the coarse hair, finding his hole, already slicked by Dean's fingers. He pressed carefully, then retreated and circled it with the pad of his thumb.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Dean groaned, throwing his head back. Cas looked up the long, muscled length of Dean's body, seeing his chest rising and falling like a bellows. He tried again, entering Dean with just the tip of his index finger. It was hot, like a fire was raging inside him.

"That's it, just like that," Dean said, letting his hand drop from Cas's wrist. "Touch me, Cas. Where ever you want."

Cas smirked and pushed back on Dean's thigh, making it bend at the knee so his foot was flat on the bed. He withdrew his hand from between Dean's legs and cupped Dean's ankle, smearing it with warm lube. "You know what I like to touch most," he said, full of cockiness he wished he really felt. "Is this good? Is this what you needed?"

"Cas, fuck!" Dean thrust his hips up, ineffectively seeking more contact. His hands scrabbled for Cas. "Don't. Give me more."

"More of what, Dean? You love saying filthy things to me, I know you do. Tell me exactly what you'd like me to do," Cas said, trying to keep the tremor of desire out of his voice.

"Cas, come on." Dean fell back to the mattress, his legs spread wide. "Give me your fingers. Fuck me with them so I can take your cock."

"Since you asked nicely," Cas said, teasing his fingertips along Dean's erection before dipping beneath his balls again. It was easier this time, Dean's body more relaxed and accepting. He kissed Dean's sharp hipbones, his ridged abs, the head of his weeping cock as he worked Dean's hole. First one finger, then none, just the press of his thumb, then two when Dean snarled for more.

They stayed that way for some time, Cas mesmerized by the heat and tightness of Dean's body, strung out on the knowledge that it was just for him that Dean was doing this, that he was the only one who'd ever seen Dean this way: flushed and sweaty and cursing and fucking himself down onto Cas's slick fingers. His cock dribbled pre-come steadily, a new droplet every time Cas crooked his fingers inside.

"Cas, Cas, that's good, I'm good, please just—I need you to fuck me now," Dean said, sucking in a huge gulp of air.

"Are you sure?" Cas twisted his fingers out, leaving his thumb there, pressing insistently. "You're ready?"

"Yeah, trust me, you don't get more ready than this." Dean sat up, kissing Cas's mouth like he was starving for it. "Want me on my back? My stomach?"

"I—" Cas swallowed. "However you're most comfortable."

Dean flopped onto his back with a pillow under his hips. Cas stared at the broad, tanned expanse of Dean's body and wondered, not for the first time that night, how he'd gotten so goddamned lucky. He smoothed his hand, the one not covered in lube, over Dean's stomach, watching the ripple and flutter of muscles as he responded to his touch.

"Yeah, that's good," Dean groaned, his head falling back to the sheets. He licked his lips. "Hey, uh, I've got some condoms in that drawer too..."

Cas held his own aching cock in his hand, stunned for a moment. "Oh. I, I thought you said this was your first time."

"It is," Dean said, his eyes not leaving Cas's face.

"Well, it's mine too, so—"

"Yeah, I know. But I thought—in case you didn't believe me for whatever reason—I mean, if you don't want to take my word for it, you should have the option—" Dean's eyes skated along the sheets, not meeting Cas's.

Cas covered Dean's body with his own, cupping his chin between his hands and kissing the words out of him. "I trust you," he said, rubbing his cock against Dean's. "Don't you get it? I trust you more than anyone."

"I—I trust you too, Cas," Dean said quietly, and it was not difficult for Cas to imagine this conversation taking place again, later, with one word of difference. "I'm ready. Please."

There was going to be some pain for Dean, Cas knew. He couldn't keep all of it at bay, but he could try to mitigate it, distract Dean with kisses and little whispers as he pressed the head of his cock against his slick hole. "I'm going to be careful," he told Dean, not knowing what else to say. "I'll stop if you need me to."

"Just keep going," Dean choked out, his arms winding around his neck, pressing his face to Cas's shoulder. "Oh god, keep going."

Cas did, entering Dean as slowly as he could, barely moving, his arms quivering with the strength it took to keep him hovering above Dean, even as Dean clung to him. He wound his fingers through Dean's sweat-soaked hair, gently tugging his face into view. Dean's face, Cas would never forget it: eyes squeezed shut in rapture, mouth gasping out curses, oh shit, oh fuck, oh Cas, a flush high on his cheeks. Finally Cas was fully seated in Dean's body, every inch of his cock caught in that wild heat. He knew he should wait for Dean to adjust to the size of him, and the muscles of his back and legs locked in place. He held Dean fast to him, their chests heaving against each other, already out of breath.

"Are you okay?" Cas asked. "W-what's it like?"

"Jesus, it's—" Dean shuddered, full-body, grinding down on Cas's cock. Between them, his erection leaked loads of fluid, a squish-slick film coating their stomachs. "It's a little weird," he managed to say, his voice high and strained. "Don't stop."

Cas steeled himself and pulled away from Dean, just an inch or two, before sliding deliberately back in. Dean's hips bucked to meet his, Dean's mouth falling open in a low moan. Cas swallowed. It was so cliched, Cas thought, for a virgin to come too soon, and he refused to let it happen. He willed himself to last.

"Here, move a little— Yeah, there you go," Dean sighed in relief, kneeing Cas's hips over to the left an inch. "Fuck. You feel huge."

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Cas stilled, coming to a dead stop against Dean's hips.

Dean shook his head, wiping away the sweat that had beaded on his forehead. "Maybe a little uncomfortable at first but," he rolled his pelvis in a small circle like a dancer, grinning at the shiver it elicited from Cas, "it's fine now. Good, even." He leaned up to kiss the corner of Cas's mouth. "Go ahead. Fuck me."

Cas shifted his hips in tiny thrusts, in and out in a smooth motion. He reached for Dean's erection and stroked it in time. Dean hissed at the contact, his fingernails digging into the mussed bedsheets that smelled like hotel soap. He brought his legs up to clamp around Cas's hips, setting a new, faster pace, like pistons working an engine. Cas couldn't help but chuckle under his breath; even on his back, Dean took charge.

"That's—shit—that's good," Dean grunted. His hands came to rest on Cas's sweat-slick shoulders, gripping tight.

Cas bowed his spine to create a sliver of space between them and continued to pump his fist up and down Dean's cock. "I want you to feel good," he said, and although he tried for rough and sexy, the words came out sincere. Almost tender. Dean stared up at him, his eyes wide.

"I do." His hands slipped down the planes of Cas's back, their bodies still working, no pause, no interruption of the quickening in-and-out of Dean. Cas looked down at this boy—this man, really—and forced himself not to say what was on the tip of his tongue. One _I love you_ and this would become too much. It was already too much.

Instead he bent his head to kiss all the bare skin he could reach: Dean's throat, his face, his slack mouth, his hair which still smelled of chlorine. He ended the circuit with the ball of Dean's shoulder, tracing the strong muscles there with his lips and tongue. He sucked at the skin briefly, leaving behind a pink spot which faded within moments.

"No," Dean choked out, "don't stop. Mark me up. Leave me a reminder."

Cas took one look at Dean's earnest face and nodded, bending to the task once more. Dean's hips jerked as Cas sucked at the skin of his shoulder, and his hand came up to cradle the back of Cas's head, to hold him in place. Cas left a bruise, spit-slathered, and thought of Dean's lacrosse teammates, who'd see this mark on Dean when he changed in the locker room and know who put it there.

The thought nearly pushed Cas over the edge. He groaned into the hollow of Dean's throat and said, "I can't—"

"I'm almost there too, Cas, just stay with me, almost there," Dean chanted, sifting Cas's hair between his clawed fingers. "Keep touching me, oh god, fuck me, _shit_."

Cas felt his mind slipping into that place where his orgasm would overtake him if he let it, but he clung to reality, grounded himself with the vision of Dean's face, his high gasps. He drilled into him as hard as Dean urged him to with his legs and his voice. And he waited until he felt Dean's cock flex in his hand, coating his fingers with thick white come.

"Jesus—! Fuck! Oh god." The words were bitten off by Dean's teeth, clenched in pleasure, mirroring his muscles and the rest of him.

"Dean," was the only word Cas could breath out as he came a moment later, shaking apart into Dean's body. It _hurt_ with how much he felt it, like a burn and a break all at the same time. He was dimly aware of Dean's hands on his face, stroking his jaw while Dean murmured, "Cas, god, you're beautiful."

Cas blinked his eyes open, gulping in air like he hadn't tasted it in years. Dean gazed up at him, his face slowly slipping into a contented smile.

"Just fucking beautiful," he whispered.

"I—" Cas wished his hands weren't covered in lube and come, because he wanted to touch Dean's face as well. He swallowed, gripping Dean's hips instead. "You are, too."

Dean leaned up and kissed him, and there was nothing dirty about it, only sweet and exploring. They lay there until the stickiness became uncomfortable. The shower was large enough for two, and when they finally curled up together under the sheets, Dean held Cas in his arms and brushed his fingertips up and down his spine.

"Love you," Dean said around four a.m., on the verge of sleep. "Do you know that?"

Cas thought of how unlikely it was for anyone to remain with their high school sweetheart for keeps, but how, if it were to happen in this case, he wouldn't mind very much.

"Yes," he said. He kissed Dean, a slow goodnight. "Love you too."

Ten years later.

It's dark, only the watery light of the moon and stars streaming through the skylight. Cas circles the community pool slowly, picking up scattered kick boards and pull buoys that the children have left behind. He doesn't mind coaching the local kids' team on weeknights after he's done with his clients, but the life of a personal trainer can be tiring. He'll be thirty soon, and his back protests as he leans down to grab one last piece of blue foam. He rubs at the lumbar area after he finishes tidying. It will need extra stretching tomorrow.

"Excuse me?" Cas hears the telltale squeak of the men's locker room door, and he answers without even turning around.

"The pool closed at nine, sir. You'll have to—" And he looks up and there's Dean Winchester. Cas stops cold.

There's no one else it can be, with that easy stance in jeans and a flannel shirt, boots still caked in Kansas mud from the look of it. At first Cas thinks he might be dreaming, but no, this Dean is older than the memory he has of his first love. His face is more chiseled, leaner, the smooth lines of youth sharpened into something just as lovely.

"Dean." He swallows, trying to formulate an appropriate response. "What are you doing in New York?"

"Heh. Long way from home, I guess." Dean scratches the back of his head, a familiar gesture that sends Cas right back to high school. God, high school: after which he moved to the city like he'd always dreamed, and Dean stayed firmly in their hometown, eschewing college for a career in law enforcement. Cas's mother still sends him articles from the local paper sometimes; news about Dean features in them often. They may have lost touch after high school (long distance relationship; what had they been thinking?) but Cas reads the articles with interest. The last one, he remembers, had been an obituary.

"I'm sorry about your father. My mom told me about it," Cas says. He crosses the pool deck, suddenly conscious of his ratty lifeguard hoodie and sweats.

"Yeah." Dean shoves his hands in his pockets. "Listen, I'm actually here because—well, I'm new to the city. Thought I'd look you up, seeing as you're the only person I know here."

Cas holds back his astonishment. "You moved here? How come?" Dean had always stuck with his hometown, saying the place was in his blood. A smalltown boy through and through.

Dean shrugs. "Sammy's in California now. Dad's gone. And after that big brouhaha over the kidnapped girl last summer—" Cas had read that article. The whole nation probably had. "—I got offered a job with the New York branch of Missing Persons. So I figured, why not. Nothing left in Kansas for me." He glanced up at Cas, his eyes darting over his face and body. "You look good, Cas."

"Thank you, I— Thanks. You look good too." Cas isn't lying; Dean's still in shape. No thinning hair or potbelly to speak of. In fact, he might have improved with age.

"Well, anyway." Dean gestures widely to the empty swimming pool. "Maybe we can grab lunch or something. I'd like to get your advice on finding an apartment that isn't crawling with mice. I mean, unless you're busy, in which case—"

"No!" Cas interrupts. "No," more sedately, "not busy at all. I'd be glad to."

"Great." That same old slow grin. "Wouldn't mind meeting some new folks, too. If you got a roommate or, you know, a boyfriend, you should bring 'em along."

Cas shakes his head, a smirk growing in the corner of his mouth. "I live alone, Dean." He has for some time now; his last boyfriend had been a sweet man, but completely incompatible with Cas in the bedroom. That had ended seven months ago, and Cas isn't sorry about it.

Dean sticks out his jaw and nods like this is some kind of unexpected and disappointing news. "Oh, too bad, too bad. So." His fingers play along the knob of the locker room door. "How's next week? Are you free then?"

Cas tilts his head to the side a bit, examining this new Dean, still beautiful, still cocky, still looking at Cas with those clear green eyes. It's been so long since this man looked at him that way, it may as well have been another lifetime. And yet....

"I'm free now," Cas says, and watches Dean's smile widen. "Let me change and we can grab a drink. I know a good place two blocks over."

"Awesome." Dean follows Cas into the otherwise-empty locker room, watching while Cas exchanges his hoodie for a real button-down. He leans against a wall of lockers, arms across his broad chest, a smile playing on his lips. "You know, every time I smell chlorine, I still think about—" He catches Cas's eye and shakes his head. "Jesus. We were so young. So stupid." He laughs, that warm, rich sound.

Cas pauses, still bare-chested, his shirt in his hand. He puts it back and shuts the locker closed. Maybe it's nostalgia, or maybe it's regret. Or maybe it's just Dean, who still has his trust and his thanks. Not very many people can look back on their first relationship with fondness, and for that, Cas is grateful. And tempted.

"Dean," he whispers. Dean turns toward him, unsuspecting until Cas's mouth is on his, until Cas is holding him against the cool metal of the lockers. He kisses back after only a moment of shocked stillness. There's a frisson of pleasure that passes through Cas. Is this as good as he remembers, or is it somehow better?

"Cas," Dean gasps when they break for air, "this isn't what I thought would— You got to realize, a lot of time has passed. I'm not the same person anymore and I don't want you to think—damn it—you may not like who I am now."

Cas considers this, the truth of it. "You can't have changed that much, not in the ways that matter. Not if you're still so careful with me." He places a deliberate kiss on Dean's jaw. "As for the rest of the new Dean Winchester, I wouldn't mind getting to know him."

Dean glances toward the showers. "You still have a thing for feet?"

Cas doesn't bother to hide the hunger in his eyes. "Let me guess. You've been walking all day..." He takes Dean's hand in his and leads him toward the showers. "We can work that out."

 

 

fin


End file.
